Summer Daze, Austen Nights
by Olivia Tannis Moure
Summary: My cheeks burned. Edward Cullen was not the plump, white-wigged aristocrat I’d envisioned. The long, expertly-cut coat couldn’t disguise the warrior’s body underneath as he strode into the room as if he owned it. Historical Romance/Fairy Tale. B/E
1. Chapter 1 The Invitation

Author Note: This is my attempt at Twilight historical fan fiction. I wrote this over the past two or three week ends during my off-days from writing "In the Grip of Twilight"—and since I get the blues when I near the end of a story, I thought starting another might help. It's loosely based on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, hence the title. I have no idea if anyone will like this sort of thing—I know it's not original. But instead of becoming laptop fodder, I decided to post the first couple of chapters here at ffnet. If it gets a good response, I'll continue to post the story, updating only once or twice a week until I finish "In the Grip".

*All places are fictitiously set in Great Britain.

The Big Tease:

My cheeks burned. Edward Cullen was not the plump, white-wigged aristocrat I'd envisioned. The long, expertly-cut coat couldn't disguise the warrior's body underneath as he strode into the room as if he owned it. But it was his face that made me gasp—I'd seen his face before in an old painting at my grandparents' home when I was small. I'd studied that face thinking that it belonged to an angel, for no human could be so perfect. Surely it was just a coincidence…perhaps a long-dead relative had sat for the painting.

He turned in my direction and I swept my gaze to the floor—I'd be mortified if caught me staring.

When I finally looked up, I was instantly struck by the intensity of his eyes. They were the most blazing color of topaz I'd ever seen—and they were looking straight at me.

(Upcoming in Chapter Two)

**Summer Daze, Austen Nights**

By:

Olivia Tannis Moore

Chapter One:

**The Invitation**

Hertford, England, 1802

"Miss Swan! Oh, Miss Swan…wait up!"

I turned reluctantly at the sound of that high, nasal voice. Mrs. Ashby's long skirts were kicking up dust in her hurry to catch up to me. I groaned inwardly as I watched Margaret Ashby's flushed face and heaving chest. The slightest thing could cause such frenzied excitement with the woman—I wondered what it would be today. Her cat, Jezabel, had another litter of kittens? Or perhaps she had the latest bit of gossip, of which I had no interest in whatsoever.

"Mrs. Ashby," I greeted her with a slight curtsy.

She was out of breath, as if she'd just ran the entire length of so and so county, instead of the short distance from the church steps to my side.

"Your stride is so long, Isabella," she huffed. "Why in the world…(huff-huff)… you would want to walk like a man…(huff-huff) is beyond my understanding." She paused before adding, under her breath—but nevertheless for my ears, "Must be a product of your motherless upbringing."

My eyebrows pinched together, but I managed to hold my tongue. After running the distance, her face was the very picture of a ripe, red grape about to burst, and yet she admonished me for walking fast.

I had no intention of waiting around as she floundered. I stood straight and proper and said, "Come on, Mrs. Ashby. Let's walk while you catch your breath. I have to get home in time to help Lucie get dinner on the table for Father."

"That no-good servant should have everything ready for the two of you when you arrive," Mrs. Ashby grumbled. I opened my mouth to defend Lucie, the closest soul I had to a mother, but Mrs. Ashby suddenly launched into the topic that she'd pursued me for.

"Have you heard the news?" She didn't give me the chance to reply, but went on in a mad rush. "The Cullens of Derbyshire are coming here to our little village for a two week stay. I've heard that Pembrook manor is practically a palace—and they have a summer home in Kent. All that wealth, why, they're nearly royalty…and they're coming here to Hertford. Can you believe it?"

"No," I said, feigning surprise. "I cannot believe it." I had no idea who these people were, nor did I care. The pomp and powered-wig upper class didn't concern me.

"They say he's very handsome —quite a catch for the _right_ girl."

"Hmmm," I murmured. I knew an insult when I heard one. For all her harping on the manners of polite society, she lacked those manners the most.

"Anyway…I was hoping that my Josie might get a fair introduction to their eldest son, Edward—before anyone else."

I stopped in my tracks. So, that was what this was all about. I laughed softly, which made Mrs. Ashby blink nervously and fidget with the lace collar about her throat.

"Let me assure you, Mrs. Ashby, that I have no such aspirations with Mr. Cullen." I suddenly had the image of a pudgy little man with his white wig askew on his head, sipping tea from a teacup much too small for his swollen fingers to hold.

Mrs. Ashby smiled broadly with relief. "Well, then, Miss Swan, in that case, I'd like to invite you and your father to the Spring Ball we're giving for the Cullens. I'll send the personal invitation out to your home this afternoon."

Sugar melted off my tongue, "Why, thank you, Mrs. Ashby. I'll be sure to tell my father to expect it."

She clasped her hands together and held them to her large bosom. "Remember, Isabella, we want to make a good impression on the Cullens, so wear your finest."

"Good day, Mrs. Ashby. I have to hurry home now," I said, picking up my skirts and walking backwards. I waved my gloved hand in an exaggerated manner, nearly sending my hymn book flying off into the tall grass by the roadside.

Mrs. Ashby shook her head disapprovingly. "Miss Swan…please…have some grace about yourself."

I smiled politely. Then, I turned and gave in to the mad rush of giggles bubbling up from my throat, as I left the dusty road in favor of the shortcut through the fields.

**

By the evening of the Spring Ball, I was nervous.

It galled me to no end that I was letting a social event tie me up in knots, but this was my first big event and it hadn't helped matters that everyone had talked about nothing else for the last three weeks.

I sat at my vanity table while Lucie pulled the long flowing dress from the wardrobe. It had taken her the entire three weeks and countless fittings to sew the periwinkle-colored dress, but Lucie's talent as a seamstress was undeniable. In fact, I was certain that if it wasn't for Lucie, I'd be clothed in the second-hand rags of distant cousins, for my father never gave much thought to my wardrobe. Though, to be fair, it was mostly a matter of money. It took all his income to keep a roof over our heads and dole out the meager income to keep Lucie with us.

Lucie held the dress up and inspected her work. She had enlisted a friend to send her a fashion pamphlet from Paris—and then she had set out to create her own version of the perfect ball dress. The empire waist had a single silver braid underneath my breasts; the thin straps had long trains that flowed down the deep cut of the back. It was unmistakably Grecian in style and simplicity.

I liked the dress as much as I could like something that would inevitably entangle around my ankles and constantly worry me. It was certainly different. At a ball where there would be an abundance of elaborate, ruffled dresses, it would be like sticking my thumb in the air and tweaking their snobby noses.

"Oh, Lucie, you've outdone yourself this time," I said, as Lucie pulled the dress over my head and made last minute adjustments with the slender silver braid.

Lucie smiled and led me to the small vanity table. I sat down and gazed at my reflection in the oval mirror.

"I have a certain hairstyle in mind," she told me. "In keeping with the style of the dress."

"Of course," I agreed. "What do I know of such—I wear it down or in a single braid."

She took a piece of the silver ribbon left over from the dress, and gathered a portion of my hair at my temples, braiding the portions into the same width of the braid in the gown. Then she threaded the ribbon through the braid, and swept the rest of my hair over my right shoulder.

Lucie smiled at me as she took a silver clasp from her pocket and secured my hair so that it would stay there cascading down over my shoulder. "It's your mother's, so watch over it." She stepped back to get a better look at me. "And speaking of your mother…you look more like her every passing day," she said softly. "She was so beautiful." She shifted her gaze from me to my reflection in the mirror. "Charles won't know what to think when he sees you—he'll think you're an illusion."

"Father wouldn't be far wrong…I feel like an illusion." I turned around in the chair and faced Lucie. "Now if only I had the poise to pull it off."

She sighed. "Do we need to practice the dances again?"

My shoulders slumped and I looked down at my hands. "You know it's not the dancing, strangely enough. It's simply walking around—everything jumps in my path."

She nodded. "Keep away from chairs," she said jokingly. But I knew she was thinking of all the times I'd found myself sprawled out on the kitchen floor—a victim of some hapless chair that some hapless person (usually me) had left pushed away from the table.

Lucie kissed the top of my head. "Just be aware of your surroundings, but try not to obsess over it. The chairs are not out to get you."

I rolled my eyes. "Hmph, that's what you think."

"Give me your self-confidence posture," Lucie directed.

I sat up straight and squared my shoulders, chest out.

"That's better," she smiled. "Now I've got to see to your father. Lord knows what he's picked out to wear…"

***

(Thanks for reading. OTM)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summer Daze, Austen Nights**

By:

Olivia Tannis Moore

Chapter Two:

**Edward Cullen**

Weatherly Manor was the obvious choice for the Spring Ball. Not only was it a handsome estate, but it had one of the largest ball rooms in the county, and on this night when most of Hertford arrived at Weatherly to catch a glimpse of the Cullen family, its spacious floor was appreciated.

Charlotte, my childhood friend, was anticipating out arrival as we pulled up on the circular driveway of Weatherly and waited for one of the footmen to take our rickety buggy.

As the footman came forward, Charlie took the invitation from his coat pocket and handed it to him. The footman glanced from the invitation to the buggy, his eyes lingering on the splintered and rotting wood, and the piecemeal patches that Charlie had fixed when money allowed. For a moment, Charlie looked away as the footman waivered, thinking perhaps that we'd received the invitation by mistake. Behind us, other carriages and buggies were waiting, the tethered horses snorting and stamping the ground impatiently.

Suddenly, Charlie put the horse reins to the side and jumped down from the buggy. I sat there as he came around and helped me to the ground. "Go on inside with Charlotte," he told me in a tone loud enough for the footman to hear. "There is no need in you staying out here with these dullards." He put his hands on his hips and stared at the footman who bristled at the insult. "Go on, I'll join you soon."

I met Charlotte at the steps of the manor.

"Why is your father angry?" Charlotte whispered as she took my arm.

I sighed. "The usual reason: he doesn't care what the buggy looks like, so why should others. Lucie tells me that he gets angry only when he thinks I am bearing the scrutiny."

Charlotte nodded. "Well, he _is _very protective of you."

"Overly so," I said.

The ballroom was crowded as we entered.

"Families from neighboring counties have come to our event," Charlotte said. "Mrs. Ashby told me that she had too many requests for attendance; and that she had the unfortunate task of choosing those who could attend since there were only twenty invitations left."

I snorted. "Unfortunate task, indeed. Nothing feeds that woman's self-importance more than coordinating events. Thank goodness we received our invitation early, _before_ it was the most sought-after event of the year…or else our invitation would have gone to a family with a better buggy…"

Charlotte covered her mouth and laughed.

Charlie found us at the refreshment table. He had two men in tow and pulled me aside to introduce us. The older man appeared to be about Charlie's age, and the younger, uniformed man looked to be in his mid-twenties.

"Isabella, I'd like you to meet Mr. Sommers, and his son, Aaron."

I curtsied. "A pleasure to meet you,"

Charlie caught my eye and smiled deviously. "I'm working on a project for Mr. Sommers' mill. And Aaron," Charlie slapped the top of his shoulder, "is an officer stationed in Brighton through the summer."

As if the bright red uniform didn't give him away, I thought.

Charlotte lightly pinched the back of my arm. She thought Charlie's continuous attempts to play match-maker were hilarious. I, however, did not.

Aaron took my hand and quickly pecked my fingers. "I'm pleased to meet you, Isabella."

Aaron was fine-looking: pale, sun-streaked hair, green eyes, tall…but he kept wetting his lips as he gazed at me—and that was always a bad sign. If Charlie encouraged him—and he was well on his way down that avenue—I knew I'd be fighting off his advances through-out the night.

I smiled politely and gazed pointedly at Charlotte.

Charlie realized his social blunder. "Oh, and this is my daughter's friend, Charlotte Greenfield."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Greenfield," father and son said simultaneously.

"Bella," Charlie said, "If your dance card isn't filled, perhaps you could save a dance for Mr. Sommers."

I stared at my father. He knew full well my dance card wasn't filled. In fact, I'd not had a chance to fill but one slot.

"I believe I have a dance available for later in the evening," I said. There was a chance that by that time he'd be too tired to dance, I reasoned.

"Nothing earlier?" Aaron asked.

Charlotte pinched my arm again. "No, my apologies…but perhaps Charlotte has a dance open…"

Charlotte nodded.

He smiled down at me. "That suits me. At least we shall all be close as we dance."

The ballroom suddenly became silent except for the murmur of voices as everyone turned around to face the wide, entrance doors where Mrs. Ashby stood waving her arms and calling for everyone's attention.

"The Cullens must have arrived," Charlotte whispered excitedly in my ear.

And soon the murmur was replaced with absolute silence as the entrance doors were flung open

"Who are these people? You'd think the Queen herself had arrived…" I said to Charlotte.

"Shhh," she said, and I realized then that Charlotte was just as caught up in the romance of the Cullen family as everyone else.

Mrs. Ashby was doing a silly tippy-toe dance, as if she couldn't stand still as she waited for the family to emerge one by one from their carriage. I couldn't help but shake my head as she made a spectacle of herself—if she knew how garish she looked bouncing around with the two matching rouge circles on her cheeks…

The family exited the carriage in pairs…except for the last one, who seemed to hold himself aloof from the event, as if there were a million other places he'd rather be. I could see only his black boots sticking out from the open door of the carriage.

"That's Carlisle Cullen and his wife, Esme," Charlotte said, as the first pair strode through the doors. "I hear he is a brilliant doctor…" she sucked in her breath, "But father did not tell me how handsome he is."

Charlotte's observation was an understatement. Both Carlisle and his wife were beautiful beyond compare. They didn't walk…they flowed across the threshold and into the ballroom, youthful and so obviously in love.

I gazed at Esme's perfect figure. "How many children did you say they have?"

"Five," Charlotte replied. "But they are adopted. No one could keep a figure like that after bearing five children."

The next couple to walk through the doors was a beautiful blonde girl and her equally beautiful but muscle-bound brother.

"That is Rosalie and Emmett Cullen," Charlotte told me.

I gasped. Rosalie was by far the loveliest creature I had ever seen. "Did Dr. Cullen and his wife set out to adopt only the most attractive children they could find?" I asked.

Charlotte cut her eyes at me and smiled.

The last couple was just as attractive, but in a different way. The girl's name was Alice, Charlotte told me. Unlike the others, she was petite, and even across the ballroom floor, her eyes sparkled and her smile charmed me. I liked her instantly—as if I could determine her character from those few seconds. Her brother, Jasper, was her opposite. He seemed a bit shy, and more than happy to give his sister the limelight. I studied his face for a moment, realizing his subtlety and perfect features made him just as attractive as his brother, Emmett.

"Ah," Charlotte sighed. "Here he comes…the only son not spoken for."

I braced myself. Surely there had to be one ham-faced son in a family of princes, after all, there was a reason he wasn't already spoken for.

I couldn't see him at first, as everyone in front of me suddenly stood upon their toes to get the best look at Edward. He must be short, I thought.

The crowd began moving backwards to allow the Cullens to walk about the center of the ballroom. I pulled Charlotte along, still unable to get a look at the last Cullen. He now piqued my curiosity—and despite the fact that none of the other Cullens had sported white wigs and big bellies, I was certain this last one would.

Charlotte had let my hand go and I turned around to grasp it again and pull her along forcibly if necessary.

She was reaching for me, trying to tell me something, but I couldn't hear her through the din of voices. She grabbed at my arm, but I again pulled her along, not watching where I was going…until I bumped into someone and nearly sent us both reeling to the floor.

"I'm sorry…" I said, turning to the poor soul I'd collided with. But then the words died on my tongue.

It was him. Even without watching as he made his entrance, I knew it was Edward Cullen. There could be no mistake.

My cheeks burned. Edward Cullen was not the plump, white-wigged aristocrat I'd envisioned. And he was not short. The long, expertly-cut coat couldn't disguise the warrior's body underneath as he stood in the center of the room as if he owned it. But it was his face that made me gasp—I'd seen his face before in an old painting at my grandparents' home when I was small. I'd studied that face thinking that it belonged to an angel, for no human could be so perfect. Surely it was just a coincidence…perhaps a long-dead relative had sat for the painting.

He turned in my direction and I swept my gaze to the floor—I'd be mortified if caught me staring.

When I finally looked up, I was instantly struck by the intensity of his eyes. They were the most blazing color of topaz I'd ever seen—and they were looking straight into mine.

"I'm terribly sorry…I was turned and wasn't watching where I was going…" I sputtered, trying to make amends.

His eyes grew wide, and to my horror, he began to back away. "Get away from me…"

People were turning and staring. I froze, disbelieving that someone, this someone whom everyone seemed to consider royalty, was speaking to me in this way—and at the Spring Ball at that.

"Go!" he demanded, as he backed off the ballroom floor, and disappeared into the crowd.

***

(Okay…a little help from you guys. I'm trying to keep the time period authentic, but I'm googling every five minutes, which makes the writing slow. I'd like to write the story on some sort of middle ground, where I don't have to do loads of research on the little things. Also, the dialogue of that period is very high diction and proper, which I'm not used to. I'd like to use a middle ground for the dialogue, as well. While the story is young, give me your opinion. Thanks for reading. OTM)


	3. Chapter 3

Summer Daze, Austen Nights

By:

Olivia Tannis Moore

Chapter Three:

Sisterly Love

I barely remember Charlotte taking my hand and leading me off the ballroom floor. We seemed to move in exaggerated slowness as the inquisitive crowd refused to part. My interaction with Edward Cullen, however unsociable and unwanted, had made me a source of their entertainment. A few were so brazen as to come up to me and ask what it was that I had done to cause Mr. Cullen's distain. Even if I had known, I doubt I would have whetted their curiosity; there was something vicious and frenzied about it. I was convinced that if Charlotte let go of me, I'd sink unaided to the floor to be trampled upon.

Charlotte led me to one of the sitting rooms off the ballroom and we quickly took refuge behind a painted screen in the corner of the room. Someone had placed a narrow bench here and we sat down, grateful to be away from the crush of the crowd.

Charlotte's eyes were wide with shock. "I can't believe he did that to you, I just can't believe it. No wonder he's not attached…who would have him?" She took my hand between her own. "He must not be of sound mind, Isabella. There can be no other explanation for his conduct."

I pressed my palms against my eyes and groaned. "Oh, Charlotte…I should have stayed at home. You know trouble always finds me. And here I was worrying about chairs—" but I got no further as we were startled by someone _whooshing_ into the sitting room.

The door closed with a loud click, muffling the music and voices out on the ballroom floor. I held my breath and squeezed Charlotte's hand, hoping our refuge would not be discovered.

"Would you like to tell me what that was all about?" a distinctly female voice asked.

Silence ensued, so she went on, "Carlisle will be bitterly disappointed. You know how long Esme has wanted a night out."

"I did what I had to do, Alice."

I covered my mouth; I knew that voice instantly.His tone still had a touch of angry hysterics in it. My heart beat fiercely against my ribcage just knowing how close we were now, just minutes after he had shouted for me to stay away from him. I felt defiant as I sat there on the edge of the bench listening to the echo of his footsteps as he paced the floor in front of the screen.

Charlotte's face turned red and she started to stand. But I shook my head and pulled her back down to the bench. We were in the perfect place to eavesdrop and I wanted to know why Edward had created such a scene. I felt I deserved an explanation, not that any explanation could excuse his behavior.

"What did the poor girl do to you to warrant such a despicable outburst?" Alice asked.

"Do to me?" Edward sounded surprised. "Did you not get close enough? Did you not _smell_ her?"

I froze, mortified by his words. And even though Charlotte was my best friend, I would not have wanted her to witness this second personal humiliation.

"Smell her?" Alice asked vaguely. "Edward…I was across the room when you shouted at her. You must control yourself—you cannot show hostility in such a public place. It is too dangerous."

Edward's voice rose. "I did control myself—she still breathes, does she not? And how could you not smell her when you entered the God forsaken ballroom? I was attempting to isolate the scent when she practically ran over me…oh god, I can still smell her…her scent must have embedded itself in my coat…I'm going to have to go back to the manor and change my clothes…"

Alice's tone was both incredulous and teasing at the same time. "Why, Edward Cullen, I do believe you are affected by this girl."

I could have sworn I heard him growl; the sound was low and menacing, and not altogether human. "Think what you like, Alice. But if she wants to stay alive, she will stay as far away from me as possible," he warned.

"I do not understand the difficulty…you hunted last night…we all did."

I heard him sigh heavily. "I wish _I_ understood…perhaps I am still thirsty. That would explain the effort it took to restrain myself in her presence. It was as if she was the only one in the room…"

"I saw how much you drank, Edward. You had plenty, but maybe you were unusually thirsty."

He paused for a moment before saying, "Alice? Would you determine whether I am going mad? It will only take a whiff…"

Her voice was soothing and melodic, "Of course I will. Now come, perhaps it _would_ be wise if you left for the rest of the evening…so Esme can reclaim what is left of her night."

I heard the door to the sitting room open.

For the first time Edward sounded contrite as he asked, "Where is Carlisle? I had better apologize."

"He is making inquiries. Now is not the time to approach him," she warned. "It would be best to wait until after the ball. If nothing else happens, perhaps his good mood will be restored."

"Ah, you are right, of course. I will wait." He paused for a moment before asking, "Will you meet me at the east wall in an hour with your results?"

Their voices were fading so I stood and chanced a quick peek around the screen. Alice had tucked her hand in the crook of Edward's arm and was smiling up at him as they disappeared into the crowded ballroom.

I sat back down on the bench and held my arm to my nose, inhaling deeply. I did not smell anything peculiar. I turned to Charlotte. "You would tell me if—"

She grabbed my arm and lifted my elbow to her nose. "I smell soap…nothing else." She let my arm go. "Breathe out," she demanded.

Timidly, I exhaled in her face and waited for her reaction.

She shrugged. "Nothing… Oh well, I would not let it bother me if I were you. You heard what his sister said—he is prone to drink heavily. Apparently it has addled his mind since certain people's scent can drive him to drink." She shook her head. "That was the oddest conversation I have ever heard…from the strangest family I have ever encountered."

Charlotte fixed me with her gaze. "And worse yet, it is not over for you. His sister plans to seek you out to sniff you. It is beyond odd…"

It was odd. But, I felt as if there was more to this beneath the surface. My curiosity was urging me along as I now had more questions than before. And I had no intention of abandoning that curiosity.

It was then that I decided that I would go to the east wall to hear what Alice had to say. Of course, that meant that I had to allow her close enough to get the whiff that Edward had asked for.

***

( Okay, this was chapter 3 and the response was pretty good. So as long as the story keeps you guys interested, I'll continue. Thanks for reading. OTM )


	4. Chapter 4

*Warning: this chapter begins the "T" rating, with adult situations.

**Summer Daze, Austen Nights**

By:

Olivia Tannis Moore

Chapter Four:

**Against the Hedges**

With Charlotte by my side, I hovered near the refreshment table at the far end of the ballroom and poured myself a cup of juice. The band had just finished a lively piece and I watched as Dr. Cullen led his wife from the dance floor. My eyes followed the graceful couple as they glided through the crowd and out onto the terrace. It occurred to me then that if Esme Cullen's shining face was any indication, Dr. Cullen would probably forgive his son's bad behavior.

Charlotte tugged at my arm. "What are you frowning about?"

"Nothing," I said, sighing. "Nothing at all."

She took her dance card from her purse and held it out to me. "We've promised the next dance to Mr. Sommers."

I grimaced and shook my head. "No, _you_ promised the next dance to Mr. Sommers. I would just be in the way of your budding romance."

Charlotte flushed. "Don't be silly—"

I opened my own purse and handed my dance card to her. "Here, you can have my dance card. Pick and choose as you like, I'm going home early anyway."

She glared at me. "Why are you allowing _him_ to ruin your evening? Esme Carlisle didn't."

"He hasn't ruined my evening," I told her. As close as I was to Charlotte, I had decided not to tell her of my plans to eavesdrop a second time. She would probably insist on going along with me and I wanted to go alone. That way there would be no distractions.

"Then don't go home," she pleaded.

The band was starting up again. The violinists began playing their intro to the next song.

"You're going to miss your dance," I warned.

Charlotte's eyes searched the ballroom floor in anticipation. "We'll talk soon…" she said when Aaron Sommers waved his hand above the heads that were streaming onto the center of the floor. And then she darted around the table and onto the crowded floor.

I did not have to wait long for Alice to appear. She gazed at the assortment of cheeses, breads, and soups, but in the end took only a small amount of Mulberry wine into her cup. She seemed to make a show of studying the wine, and I thought it clever since I was next to the large decanters, making it a perfect cover to get nearer to me. I smiled to myself. My plan was working splendidly.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" I asked pleasantly as she leaned in to pick up another decanter—apparently at random.

Her smile was quick and genuine, as if it delighted her that I should speak first. Up close, her white teeth sparkled in the soft light, and her chin was a bit more pointed when her lips stretched wide. Her hair was the color of dark mahogany and swept back with pearl-encrusted combs, all except for her spiky bangs and the wisps of hair around her face that seemed to escape the combs as if it had a will of its own.

"I am." She sounded as if she meant it. Her candor made it easier for me to smile—after all, I had liked her from the start, this pixie-like girl with the gamine face and inner radiance.

I nodded. "The best songs for dancing will come shortly. The band warms up after a while and save their best for last," I said, although I didn't actually know this from experience but had heard it said many times.

"I _do_ love to dance," she said with a breathy sigh. "But my partner is a bit shy—it takes him a while to warm up, too," she said humorously. By partner, I assumed she was speaking of the one who seemed to constantly wear a worried expression; Jasper, I believe Charlotte had called him.

"Do all the men in your family dance?" I asked.

She grinned as if my question was amusing. "Not if they can help it."

I raised my cup to hers and tapped it lightly on the rim, "To dancing, then."

I took a sip of my juice and watched as she held the cup to her lips for half a moment before lowering it without as much as a taste. She hesitated as if she would say more and I wondered if she was going to mention something regarding Edward, but she didn't. Perhaps she thought that any discussion of her brother would be tactless given the earlier scene he had made. Instead, she set her cup down on the table. "If you will excuse me, I have to meet someone."

"Certainly," I said, smiling. And then I watched as she went out onto the terrace, using the same doors her parents had used just minutes before.

**

The east wall was taller than I remembered. Made of stone, it was at least six feet tall. This, I thought, would work to my advantage, for surely Edward and Alice would stay on the property where I could remain close enough to hear their discussion.

I lurked in the darkness, scouting the area for a place to hide, finally settling on a cluster of apple trees that would provide decent cover. I had borrowed a coat from the hall and hoped it wouldn't be missed until I could get back to the manor. It was too much too large for me, again working to my advantage since I had feared the pale material of my dress would glow in the night.

The air was becoming chilly and I shrugged deeper into the coat. Leaning back against one of the tree trunks, I listened to the laughter coming from the manor as it drifted across the lawn. But then I heard the ring of girlish laughter rise above that which came from Weatherly Manor. _It was coming from the other side of the wall._ I stepped forward and pressed my ear to the stone wall, thinking surely I must be mistaken…the gate was on the other side of the property. It made no sense. I had left the manor right after Alice. They would've had to run quite a distance around the perimeter to reach the other side so quickly—and I couldn't image Alice's petite form scaling the wall in her ball dress…

I couldn't hear through the wall; everything sounded muffled. I looked up at the apple trees. If Alice could run like the wind or scale a wall, then I could surely climb a tree…

I heaved myself up to the lowest branch and then up again until I could see over the wall. Stretched out lengthwise with my stomach resting on the branch, I followed the sound of Alice's laughter. Then my breath caught in my throat when Edward's throaty laughter intertwined with hers. They were probably laughing at my expense, I thought, but I couldn't help the stir in my belly from the sound of his voice. My eyes were just becoming adjusted to the darkness when I saw their shadowy figures walking slowly down the length of the wall and away from me. I had missed their conversation!

With frustration I watched as they moved further and further away, Edward's coattail ruffling in the breeze as Alice trailed her hand along the wall. Now I would never learn what Alice told him—but whatever she said seemed to improve his mood. That laugh…why it should affect me so was troubling. Perhaps it was because I had only heard resentment in his voice before now.

I waited a few more minutes before climbing down. And once my feet were once more on solid ground, I noticed the scuff marks along the coat I had borrowed…and the missing buttons that had popped off during my climb. It was a nice coat, well made, and I couldn't replace it—another reminder of my failure in this little adventure. And I was so occupied with these thoughts that I startled when a deep voice broke the silence.

"There you are,"

I clutched the lapels of the ruined coat with guilt as Aaron Sommers looked down at me.

"I was just about to go inside," I said, attempting to step around him. But his arm shot out and grabbed me around my waist beneath the coat.

His grin was lecherous, "You owe me a dance—and I had just as soon have it out here."

I flinched and tried in vain to remove his arm, my heart knocking within my chest as I realized the danger of my situation.

He chuckled at my efforts and slide his hand down to cup my hip.

My voice was high and desperate as I struggled. "Let me go inside and I'll dance with you."

His hand was straying, becoming more intimate in its exploration. "And give up a dance under the moonlight? I don't think so."

I raised my hand to slap at him but he caught it easily in his other hand. His tawny-green eyes narrowed as his upper lip curled into a cruel smile.

"Stop—don't touch me." My command was panicked and thin. If only I could free myself and run…

"_Let her go_," a voice growled, and my heart leaped in my chest.

Aaron released my waist but still gripped my wrist like a shackle. I looked around but didn't see anyone…then, following Aaron's gaze I looked up to see Edward standing there on top of the wall.

He jumped down from the wall as if it were a mere step, landing before us. And when he spoke again, his voice carried an even deadlier threat, "_I said, let her go_."

Aaron hesitated for a moment, then released my wrist. "Edward…fancy running into you here of all places."

"Your fancy, not mine."

"Come now," Aaron said cheerfully, "you're not still cross with me, are you? I mean, I'm the one who should still be angry after that fiasco last spring…but, I'll tell you what…let me have the girl and I'll let bygones be bygones…clean slate…what do you say?"

The silence caused chills to dance down my back as Edward seemed to consider Aaron's proposal. But then Edward took a step forward and I heard Aaron emit a low sigh.

"I'll see the girl home safely. I give you my word," he told Edward.

Edward chuckled lightly. "Your word? Would you like to know how much _your word_ is worth to me?" He took another step toward Aaron and now they were nose to nose with only inches separating them.

Aaron took a step back. "Alright, Edward. I didn't know the girl meant that much to you—you should have just said so."

Edward shrugged, "Or perhaps it's just that I cannot stand_ you_—and I'm just waiting for the opportunity to rid the world of your pestilence."

Despite his unwillingness to challenge Edward, Aaron straightened. "Really, Edward, you're well aware of The Code—you know what that would mean."

Edward sneered at his words. "You've given me plenty of reasons to break The Code already…you walk a thin line, Aaron."

Aaron raised his hands in the air. "Fine. You'll have your leave of me."

He turned toward the manor, but Edward stopped him and pointed over the wall. "This way, Aaron. It's no small miracle that Alice is still unaware of your presence here—I'd prefer to keep it that way."

***

(I tried to keep the contractions out of the dialogue and narrative, but it sounded so wooden and phony. 18th and 19th Century authors wrote this way because it was true to their time. Besides that, Twilight characters speak with contractions normally, although I've staged them in another time. I just thought I would explain my reasoning behind the change. Thanks for reading. OTM)


	5. Searching for Answers

**Summer Daze, Austen Nights**

By:

Olivia Tannis Moore

Chapter Five:

**Searching For Answers**

Aaron walked to the stone wall and then gazed back at Edward. "Would you have me leave my usual way?"

Edward frowned. "If you did, then _you_ would be breaking The Code."

"Yes, well," Aaron said, grimacing as he tried to get a foothold in the crevices of the wall. "We don't want that…"

I watched as Aaron climbed the wall, and then crouched there looking down on us, smirking. "Oh, Edward, speaking of Alice…give her my best, would you? I so miss her."

Edward lunged forward, his hands clenched into tight fists. But Aaron had already jumped to the other side of the wall. His sardonic laughter filled the air as Edward ground his teeth.

Then, all that was heard was the wafting voices from the manor.

Edward seemed to listen for a moment as if to make certain that Aaron had actually left the premises.

I wanted to ask him what Aaron had done to Alice—if he had attempted to do the same to her…but of course that would have been impertinent. It was certain to be a deeply personal matter, a family matter, just as my incident with Aaron was an embarrassment I wouldn't want open for discussion.

Uncomfortable, I looked down at my feet. "Thank you for what you did…for stopping him before…" I shuddered, unable to finish. That I had escaped such a hideous act by _his_ interference was incredible. "It would have been worse than death," I mumbled, timidly peeking up at him from beneath my lashes.

He had moved a few feet from me and his voice was hard and biting again. "Worse than death? It would have meant your death had he carried out his intentions. Why would you stray this far from the ball with a stranger?"

My mouth dropped open. "I…I didn't."

He looked as if he didn't believe me.

I couldn't very well tell him I was out spying on him, so I told him a half truth. "I came out to get some fresh air…and get away from everyone."

His topaz eyes flickered and his voice lost most of its edge. "Because of me? What I did earlier?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes." The truth reverberated in my answer. It _was_ solely because of him.

"Damn…" he said, rubbing his hand across his chin. "If I hadn't been out here…if I hadn't stopped it…it would have been my fault." His voice was so low he seemed to be talking to himself.

"No," I said. "You would have heard the news and assumed what you originally assumed…that I was a girl with loose morals that had found herself in the company of a stranger…a rapist."

His eyes narrowed. "Not merely a rapist…"

"Do you really think he would have murdered me?" I asked incredulously.

He answered too quickly, "There's no doubt in my mind."

"Why did you let him go free then? If you know he is a murderer—why let him go? Because you belong to the same club? Because it's against _The Code_? What about the code of decency?"

"It's not the same code you speak of," he began to explain, but then clamped his mouth closed. I knew better than to press him; the code was yet another subject that was obviously none of my business.

"So you let him go so that he can force himself on another female, or worse as you say."

"It's not for you to understand," he said dismissively and started for the manor.

I had to walk fast to catch up with him. ""Fine then," I spat. "But I can't tell the authorities or my father what happened tonight."

He suddenly turned around and I nearly ran into him. For a moment, he seemed to totter as if my nearness caused him to be off-balance. His eyes glazed over as he appeared to be fighting for control over some emotion. "Please…" he said, taking hold of my upper arms and gently pushing me back until we were at arm's length apart. "I have to have some space." He closed his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath and exhaled. "Now, why can't you tell your father? He should know—Aaron may come back. He never could take no for an answer."

I swallowed convulsively. "I just can't."

He shrugged. "Well, I tried. You're on your own from now on," he said flippantly and took off walking again.

I hurried after him. "Edward…wait."

He slowed, but did not stop walking, and I found myself matching his stride as I gushed, "My father is working for the Sommers. It's the only work he's been able to find in over six months…"

I stopped and crossed my arms over my chest. I didn't want Edward to pity me; I only wanted him to know the situation. But I there I stood, looking ridiculous in some man's oversized coat, whining about my father's lack of employment and our obvious poverty. I only wished for the ground to suddenly open up and swallow me.

Edward froze and looked back at where I stood. "_Your father is working for the Sommers?"_ His tone was so peculiar; I couldn't tell if it was anger or concern that fueled his words. "Where?" he demanded.

"I don't know…I just found out about it tonight."

He ran his hand through his bronze hair, tousling it further.

"My father practically gave Aaron his blessings to pursue me. That's how it all started."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't be so sure of that."

I sighed. "You talk in riddles…"

He walked back to where I stood and surprised me by taking my head between his hands. "Look, this is what you're going to do—this is your assignment—you're going to find out everything your father knows about the Sommers." His hands were frigid cold against my ears making me shiver. "Everything," he emphasized. "Where they are staying; what business they have here in Hertford…and anything else you can find out. And in return, I'll make sure Aaron stays away from you. Will you do it?"

His closeness…the intensity of his voice…made my heart pound. I nodded hypnotically.

Neither of us said anything for a long moment, as if we were suddenly entangled in an invisible web. In slow motion his head was bending down to mine. I watched as his eyes closed and his mouth parted, all the while wondering with great expectation what his lips would feel like against my own.

I closed my eyes in anticipation.

"Bella…" His voice was strangled.

I opened my eyes to see him stepping back very slowly. His hands were still in the air from where he had held my head; his eyes were still closed. He was the very image of someone exercising an enormous amount of self-control—although I couldn't imagine why…I was perfectly willing to allow him to kiss me. I wanted it. In fact, I was certain my face must show my disappointment that he hadn't.

***

(Thanks for reading. OTM)


	6. Chapter 6

Summer Daze, Austen Nights

By:

Olivia Tannis Moore

Chapter Six:

Compensation

After a long moment, he seemed to compose himself. He opened his eyes and regarded me with something along the lines of amazement. "Carlisle will find this interesting…" he murmured to himself. "What I thought was repulsion is actually the opposite…" He shook his head and his lips crinkled into a lopsided smile of chagrin.

I tilted my head and looked up at him. That smile of his was infectious. His revelation that I wasn't the repugnant girl that he had thought had me smiling with relief, especially since I no longer found him to be offensive—not after his admission, and certainly not after the spell he had put me under when he'd almost kissed me.

He was looking at me again, and rather oddly, as if he didn't know what to make of me.

I flushed brightly.

"How are you going to explain ruining your father's coat?" he asked as his eyes swept over me. "It won't do for you to anger him and then try to get information out of him."

My face felt like an inferno now. He had assumed the coat was my father's and I wrestled with telling him the truth. It sounded very irresponsible, my taking the stranger's coat and then ruining it. But in the end, I confessed rather shamefully that it wasn't actually my father's coat.

"Whose is it, then?" he asked

"I don't know…"

He looked at me dubiously as if not sure I was telling the truth. "You borrowed someone's coat that you don't know to come out here…but it wasn't for Sommer's benefit, or so you say…so whose benefit was it for?"

I wasn't going to tell him that—my honesty didn't extend that far. "Never mind," I said. "I shouldn't have borrowed it…I knew better. Especially when I don't have the money to have it mended or replaced."

One of his eyebrows shot up. "There's no mending _that_ coat."

I looked down at my feet. It finally hit home that I was in a fine mess. The crowd was thinning and the gentleman whose coat I'd borrowed was probably inside looking for his coat so he could leave. It was a nice coat, well-made, definitely better than anything my father could afford. I bit my bottom lip, pensively. In my mind I imagined the man demanding a replacement from my father, placing him in an impossible situation. I was suddenly nauseous and looked around for a place to sit down, but we were in the middle of the drive.

Edward sighed and stuck his hand out, "Give me the coat."

I searched his face but it was unreadable. "Why? What are you going to do?" Yet I was already slipping the coat from my shoulders.

He didn't answer me as he took the coat and draped it across his arm.

"Edward?"

He began walking toward the entrance to the hall.

"Edward, please…" I called out.

He looked back over his shoulder at me. "I'm saving your hide yet again—that's what I'm doing."

My cheeks burned. He made it sound so impersonal. I groaned inwardly as I realized that it _was_ personal. It appeared he was about to take the blame for the ruined coat.

**

The gentleman was indeed looking for his coat. And it seemed he had enlisted the help of several other guests to find it.

I didn't recognize the man, but from the cut of his clothing he appeared to be rather well-to-do. Middle-aged, and rather big-boned, he was searching the sitting rooms off the ballroom and bellowing quite dramatically with his large hands on his hips. I shrank back, immensely glad that I didn't have to confront the man, regretful that because of me, Edward had to take on the task.

But Edward seemed to give no thought to this. He walked straight up to the gentleman. "Sir, I it appears that I took your coat by accident."

The man's jaw dropped when he saw the state of his coat.

"There was a mishap with the horses," Edward explained calmly. "I must apologize for ruining your coat."

I watched as Edward took a leather pouch from his pocket. "I will, of course, reimburse you for the coat."

The man was livid. "See here, young man, my tailor just made this for the ball—I wouldn't be seen in civilized company wearing this now."

Edward responded by taking the man's hand and emptying the contents of the leather pouch into his palm. I gasped; there were enough gold coins to purchase three of the finest coats.

The man stared wild-eyed at the coins as a silver-haired woman hurried to whisper something in his ear.

The man's jaw dropped again and he stared at Edward, sputtering, "I had no idea—" and I assumed the woman had just told him who Edward was as the man turned ghostly-white.

I fought off a giggle as the gentleman's trembling hand rattled the coins in his palm. "Sir," he exhaled breathlessly, "I cannot take this." He thrust the coins toward Edward. "Tis too much compensation for such a ratty coat." His forehead was gleaming with perspiration now as he tried to get Edward to take the coins.

But Edward just shook his head. "I mean to be fair about the situation."

The man stepped forward, his voice low. "Sir, _please_…your father supplies my textile mills. I will be ruined."

Edward's eyebrow arched and he swept a topaz gaze over his shoulder at me, leaving no doubt that his next words were at least partially meant for my ears. "My father would expect no less from me than to pay for something I spoiled."

So that was it, I thought. He was implying that he was paying for my spoiled evening, that he held himself somewhat responsible for the tattered coat.

I studied his trim figure, his wide shoulders, the fleeting profile of his face with that chiseled square jaw and those eyes that could look right through me…and then I considered his chivalrous nature toward me. Briefly, I closed my eyes; no, I didn't harbor any of the anger from earlier. It had evaporated like summer rain, only to be replaced with a spreading warmth in my belly and the tumble and flutter of butterfly wings whenever I looked upon him.

**

I was enveloped in these thoughts when my father suddenly took my elbow. "Bella—I thought you'd gone home."

I shook my head, realizing that Charlotte would have told him that. "I was going to leave early, but got caught up in conversation." I said, hoping he wouldn't question me further.

He didn't get the chance as Edward strode up just then. "Mr. Swan," he greeted my father smoothly and shook his hand. "I'm Edward Cullen." My father's eyes widened slightly with recognition and he nodded as Edward continued, "I would like your permission to call on Bella tomorrow at your home."

My father's gaze swept from Edward to me. "Of course."

For a moment there was a stretch of silence. Then it occurred to me that my father was at a loss for words.

Edward turned to me and caught my hand in his. Slowly, he brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed my fingers, causing a small gasp to escape me. A shiver passed between us and he instantly let my hand go as if my fingers had burned him. His eyes were unreadable…yet, for the merest of seconds I thought something in his topaz eyes had sparked…

"Until tomorrow, then," Edward said, his voice catching slightly.

And then he was striding toward the open doors where Alice stood waiting for him.

***

(Thanks for reading. Sorry I've been a little slow updating. OTM)


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